The Place
by sarramaks
Summary: Flack/Angell one shot. Set post 4.13 and follows on from Opening and The Call, although you needn't have read those. Angell waits for Flack to go for Irish coffee.


_Thank you for the reviews for The Call. This one shot follows on from that, but can be read on its own. This takes place after 4.13. Thank you to Lily Moonlight for beta-ing._

_I do not own CSI NY or any of the characters in it._

The Place

She looked around the room, most of the desks empty, their owners having gone home, or more than likely gone to a bar. For some detectives, she knew that certain bars could be classed as home. She stood up, impatience getting the better of her and made her way over to Flack's desk where a pile of paperwork sat ominously. He would curse when he saw it; the thought made her smile. Too much about him made her smile.

Angell sat on his chair, searching for paper to leave him a note. He was still talking to Danny and she figured that the conversation could well take more time, given the expressions on their faces when she had seen them walk into the interview room, once Danny had calmed down and finished telling Flack to mind his business. Her own desk was cleared, a long day finally done, and she needed to wind down and relax. Flack had suggested Irish coffee, and the thought of winding down the day with him had been too tempting to pass up on.

Too practical to fantasize, she had reviewed what she could recall of the night many times in her mind. She had enjoyed the adrenaline that being with him caused, a rush that she had rarely felt since her promotion to detective. Most other cops were put off by her status, and most regular guys ran a mile as soon as she told them what she did for a living. The only men she seemed to attract were either married or old enough to be her father; neither attribute was desirable. With Flack, she felt she had nothing to hide, there was no pretence. He understood her family, his own being similar. She could talk about work without him getting bored or wanting to discuss business. Their conversations flitted between the professional and sometimes the very unprofessional, the underlying tension between them never erased and barely acknowledged.

They'd repeated the event several times since, though never to such excess. They'd talked, something they were both good at, and a friendship had grown. They'd become water-cooler gossip, something they'd both found amusing, and a bond had developed, growing stronger each time something was confided or laughed at. She was aware they were becoming close, and not just as colleagues.

She'd known by the way he'd suggested going for a drink that today hadn't been good. His fears for Danny had clearly been realised; they'd spent the previous evening together, eating takeaway at his place and watching reruns of Happy Days and the Dukes of Hazard. Nothing was said about the night before, when Flack had almost carried Danny to her place as he was too drunk to be left alone, and they had fallen asleep with her hand in his. Any suggestions of a serious inclination towards a relationship that was more than just friends were ignored.

Outside she could here the sounds of engines and horns as people sought the sanctuary of wherever they were calling home. Angell sat back in Flack's chair, regarding his desk and the view he had from it. Her own work station was visible; she could see her almost empty in-tray and the pile of books she was still using to reference certain aspects of her job. Flack's desk was free of those books, experience and what seemed like innate knowledge taking their place. His desk was tidy, even with the new pile of paperwork that had come his way. He hated that aspect of the job, a subject she had heard him on the soap box with many times; but the hatred of it had only made him work harder at it, determined to conquer it before it conquered him.

On the right hand side of his desk was a pad of paper he used for taking notes. She looked at it, her eyes catching sight of her own name written in his scrawl. For an instant, she felt shy, like when she had just received her first Valentine's Day card and then her eyes regained a gleam, knowing just how much she would tease him later. But however much she teased him, nothing would be acknowledged.

A clock struck eight and she debated leaving him the note she'd intended and going home. Tomorrow was a rest day and she knew she'd earned it. Unless the shift patterns had been changed, Flack was also off, as he should have been today, coming into finish paperwork on the Emily Miller case before heading off to see his parents. Danny had changed that.

Detective Mulligan wandered through the office, nodding at her as he passed. "You still here, Angell?" he said, grabbing his jacket.

She nodded, not knowing what explanation to give for the fact that one she was still there, and two, she was sat behind Flack's desk.

"Didn't your shift finish an hour ago?" he said. She caught the small of cigarette smoke coming from him and wrinkled her nose inadvertently.

"I was catching up on paperwork. I'm off tomorrow and didn't want to come back with a desk full," she said, trying to casual and stupidly hoping that he would realise that she wasn't sat at her own desk.

"You'll still have paperwork to do when you get back," he said. "I'm sure your boyfriend will help you with it though. You keeping his chair warm for him?"

Hope fell away from her like a landslide. "I'm waiting for him to discuss a case," she lied, knowing that Mulligan would see right through it.

"So you're not denying he's your boyfriend?" Mulligan said, a wide smile on his face. One of his small pleasures it seemed, was tormenting Angell about Flack as much as possible.

She rolled her eyes. "We've had this conversation before, Alan."

He nodded, still smiling like a Cheshire cat who had not only got the cream but had also learnt how to milk a cow. "He's not denying it."

"Oh?" she tried not to look too interested.

Mulligan pulled a chair towards Flack's desk at sat down. "I take it you want to hear some gossip?"

Did she? She had never been the type to gossip, probably something to do with the fact that her brothers were far more interested in playing football and climbing trees, and she'd wanted to be wherever they were. "Tell me," she said, giving in. Maybe Flack had said more to Mulligan than he had to her.

"It comes at a price."

She raised her eyebrows at the older cop.

"Exchange of information."

"Spill," she said, knowing what the exchange would involve.

"I was asking Flack about you, and referred to you as his 'girlfriend'. He didn't deny it – although, granted that most cops would enjoy having you being thought of as their girlfriend as long as their wives didn't get to hear of it – and when I asked why he wasn't denying it, he shrugged. I asked if you and he were dating and he went quiet, so I assumed not but that he would like to be. His words – 'we're just friends', and he seemed mighty disappointed at the fact," Mulligan looked at her triumphantly. Angell nodded, appearing expressionless, her insides jumping about and making her feel seasick. "So, Detective Angell, are you 'just friends'?"

"Mulligan, why are you so interested?" she said, a little puzzled.

"I've know Donny since he was a smallish boy. You're together a lot, you get on well, and he writes your name on his jotter while he's staring at you," they both looked at the paper on the desk. "I have good detection rates, and for a male of the species, my intuition's pretty damn good. He likes you and it's about time he found himself a decent woman."

"In that case you don't need me to tell you anything," she said.

Mulligan smiled and nodded, standing up. "I shall duly report back."

"You're going to tell Flack about this conversation?" she said, shocked. "You're trying to match make?"

Mulligan shrugged. "Well, you're pretty useless at it yourselves."

She went quiet, the feeling of being back in high school drowning her. But then, the whole of high school was just a microcosm for real life really. "I do like him," she said, knowing she would rather be a little in control of what got back to Flack. "I would rather that piece of information didn't become glued to the water cooler."

"You've not really told me anything, you know. Not verbally. Ninety percent of communication is non-verbal, isn't that correct, Detective Flack?" Mulligan said as footsteps entered the room.

Flack stood there, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Mulligan," he greeted the detective who had begun to move away.

"Have a good evening you two," Mulligan said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and strolling towards the exit. They watched him go, waiting for him to leave before continuing to speak.

"I'm sorry I've been so long – I thought you would have gone," he said, sitting on the chair Mulligan had vacated.

"I finished up some paperwork and was then accosted by Mulligan," she said. "How were things with Danny?"

"Troubled," Flack said. "Thanks for booking Rikki in, Jess. I know you've been busy."

She smiled. "That's what friends are for." Their eyes locked and neither spoke, the words hanging there indecisively, like birds who didn't know whether to eat the corn or fly from the cat.

"You still interested in that Irish coffee?" he said. "You can tell me what stories Mulligan was whispering in your ear."

She laughed. "Just that most of what we communicate is not through speech."

"I'd say that _we_ definitely know that already," he said, his voice quiet, his eyes dark. "You said you knew somewhere to go for a drink."

Angell looked at him, nerves eating into the pit of her stomach, uncertainty seeping into her. She didn't want this to be spoilt. "I could do with a coffee actually."

He nodded. "Then after I'll buy you dinner and whinge to you about how crap my life is sometimes." He gave her a smile, but his blue eyes were wary.

She stood up, following him out of the precinct and taking one last look at her name, written in his handwriting, circled and underlined.

_I have a three-shot waiting to go that follows on from this. However, I would like to know where people want me to go with Flack and Angell's relationship. Shall I keep them in limbo or avail them of their frustration? Comments welcomed - the muse needs inspiration._

_Thank you for reading - please review and let me know what you think!_


End file.
